Natasha One-Shots
by infantilejoy
Summary: Whether you prefer your Agent Romanoff with Steve, Clint, or Bruce, you can find one-shots for all three OTPs here. Certain parts inspired by "Captasha One-Shots" by @teambuckybarnes; credit given within those parts. Disclaimer: I do not own any X-Men, The Avengers, Fantastic Four, or any other Marvel Studios, Sony Motion Pictures, or Fox Entertainment-related characters, images
1. Navigation Information

Thanks for choosing to read through my Natasha one-shots book!

In this part, I tell you how to navigate, read, and find things.

 **1\. How to find your preferred OTP:**

Personally, I mainly ship Clintasha (with a hint of Captasha every now and then), but I know there are people who ship Bruce or Steve with Natasha more than they do Clint, so I release new one-shots in groups of three to keep everyone satisfied.

 _B [Title]:_ This means that I pair Natasha with Bruce Banner (The Hulk) within that part.

 _S [Title]:_ This means that I pair Natasha with Steven Rogers (Captain America) within that part.

 _C [Title]:_ This means that I pair Natasha with Clinton Barton (Hawkeye) within that part.

 **2\. How to read the titles:**

I know some people prefer these one-shots to be set in certain time periods, so I like to hop around time for you guys.

 _S [Wartime] 1942:_ This is the title of my first Captasha one-shot. The year will always be after the title. In this example, it's set in 1942.

 _B [Title] AOU:_ This would read as Bruce x Natasha set in the (MCU) _Age of Ultron_ time period.

 _C [Title] GOTG:_ This would read as Clint x Natasha set in the time period (where we assume the Avengers were on vacation break, or whatever) in the (MCU) _Guardians of the Galaxy_ time period.

 **3\. How to find your request:**

If you've requested an idea and I've accepted it, it'll be released as follows:

 _[Initial] [Title] [Time] (by yourusernamehere):_ If your username is yourusernamehere, then I apologize for tagging you. Anyways, I'll put the username of the requester after the time in the title. This way it's easier for you to find, read, and possibly show off your requested one-shot.

I'll add more as I think them through and get suggestions. Thanks again for reading, and remember to vote and comment!


	2. Requests - Open

Currently this book is _**open**_ _/closed_ for requests. Comment them  only on this chapter, please!

Rules for requesting:

1\. You can request a one-shot of Natasha x **anyone,** even if it's not Bruce, Steve, or Clint. You want Tony x Natasha? Go ahead. You want Bruce Wayne x Natasha? Sure. I don't care. Your OTPs are your OTPs and I want to bring them to life with these one-shots.

2\. Try to keep them PG-13, although every now and then I'll allow some more mature ones.

3\. Don't request something that's already been written!

4\. If you change your username, please let me know so I can keep the correct people tagged.

5\. If requests are closed, that means that I am not taking any until they're open. Please don't comment them, even if you say it's _alright if you do it when they're open again_ because I will most certainly ignore your requests.

6\. Only request 1-3 at a time, please!

7\. I won't accept all requests for specific reasons. If you want to know why yours was declined, message me.

8\. If I never respond, then I have somehow missed your request. Message me if that happens!


	3. S Wartime 1942-45

Insp. by teambuckybarnes  
1942

Waiting for the slow public telephone to register her call, Natasha taps her foot impatiently and rocks the white carriage in front of her gently to keep the infant occupying it asleep.

The other line picks up after a minute and her breath hitches in her throat.

"Hello?" Calls the tired voice on the other end.

"Steve?" Rocking the carriage has been momentarily forgotten and the infant begins to fuss.

"Darlin'," Steven Rogers says, sounding relieved. "It's so good to finally hear from you. But why didn't you write me?"

"Because, Steve, I wanted you to hear the sound of your week-old son."

The baby fusses louder and Steve's voice cracks as he asks, "that's my son? Have I been gone that long?"

"Mm-hmm. In fact, you been gone for a week and six months. You ain't been going to those striptease shows, have you, now?" Natasha asks, joking with her husband of three years.

"Oh, baby, you know they ain't got any of them over here." His voice becomes sarcastic-sounding. "I sure do wish they had Miss Gypsy Rose Lee-"

A clatter and a woman's frantic voice, calling, _let's go, men!_ fill the background on Steve's end.

"Baby, I gotta go now."

"No, Steve? Please don't leave-"

"I have to. I will make it home to you and- what name'd we decide on?"

Natasha hears the smile in his voice.

"James."

"Right. I will fight everyone that stands in my way ho-"

The line cuts.

"Baby? Steve?"

The redhead hangs up the receiver quietly, a tear slipping down her face. Somewhere, deep inside her heart, she knows Steve won't be back to see his son or wife.

1945

The war is over. Natasha finds herself opening the door to a rather lovely red-lipped brunette whose eyes are red, seemingly from tears.

"How can I help you?"

"Hi. I'm Sergeant Peggy Carter. I'm from the US Army division." At Natasha's invitation, Peggy steps inside, allowing the redheaded mother and wife to shut the door.

"Are you here about Steve? Is he coming back?"

Peggy shakes her head sadly and looks down at the linoleum floor.

Natasha falls apart, holding her three-year-old son, at the news that Steve sacrificed himself and dove a plane into the ice-covered Pacific and will _never come back to her._


	4. C Budapest No Set Time

There was no set time for the Budapest Operation since it was never explained what exactly happened in Budapest.

"I don't need constant watching, Barton," Natasha informs Clinton hotly, her green eyes watching his every move as he cleans his bow on one of the beds.

"I don't think Director Fury would agree, especially not when it's coming from a former Russian-KGB-assassin-con-artist whose temper gets a little too hot sometimes," Clint says smoothly. He stops cleaning to send her a smirk. "But as long as the door to this hotel room is heavily guarded by SHIELD's best, I don't think there's much you can do about it. Plus, I'm here to keep you from murdering anyone."

"Are you sure about that, Barton? I could've easily killed you, back when you-"

"But you didn't, and that's why I don't think you'd do it now," he points out, his eyes returning back to his beloved matte black bow.

"And why would I not? I still hate you as much as I did then, and I'm busting out of here, whether you like it or not. Tell me, Clint," she says, taking a step closer to him, "why do you think I came here; with you of all people? Why did I come on a mission to Budapest?"

"I think you came here because Hungary is closer to Russia than New York is," Clint replies, never taking his gaze off his work.

"Well, we have a winner!" She shouts sarcastically. "I'm going back to the KGB because if I don't, there's going to be a target on my back for the rest of my days."

"Listen here, Princess," Clint says firmly, getting up and grasping the back of her head, careful not to pull her hair. "You're not going back to the KGB or the Red Room. You're not going back to the horrors you left behind. You only want to go back to that hellhole because it's the only thing you've ever known and mammalian instinct is telling you to go back because you think that's _all you've got_. But let me tell you this: you have me, and for as long as I live, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

His fingers wrap around locks of her fiery red hair lightly as he kisses her on the forehead.

The next morning, waking up alone, Natasha realizes they both will remember what happened in Budapest very differently.


	5. B Summer Present Day

"Hey," Natasha calls, popping her head in through the door to Bruce's laboratory. "It's nice out today. You should join us for the grill-out."

"What?" Bruce shouts, standing up from being slumped over in work in a chair. He shoves his glasses on to see who's at his door. "Oh, Nat. Hey. I was just, um-"

"Up late?" She saunters in, crossing her arms over her striped shirt.

"No, not really," he lies.

"Not later than usual, you mean."

"Well, of course." Bruce grins and cleans up his wrinkled papers.

She crosses over to help him.

"No, no, I got it."

She leans her hands on the stack of papers. "Let me help you. Go get that chemical that spilled over there," she commands, nodding her head to show the direction of the spill.

He nods and scurries over to salvage what he can.

"Shit," he mutters. "It was the altered liquid crystal version of Tony's Vibranium. He's gonna kill me."

Natasha finishes stacking the papers and walks over to the spill site. A blue liquid crystal element was spreading across multiple papers and was about to drop off of the fireproof table. "That's the element he created?"

"A portion of it." He runs a tired hand through his hair.

"Well, I assume, from the stories he's told me, that we can't exactly touch it."

"That's correct," Bruce says, looking over at her.

"We can't leave it here, either. So, what do we do? Call Biohazard Waste Removal?"

"We could, if such a thing existed here."

Her green eyes fix on his. "So then we call-"

"No. We are not calling Tony."

"Why not? He can't really take anything away from you; this isn't Stark Tower anymore."

"He provides my funding!"

"Trust me. He would understand. He's done this more times than Pepper and I can count."

"You're sure?" He says softly.

"I'm sure." Natasha turns to the wall, where a screened communicator is placed. "FRIDAY," she calls out, addressing Tony's new AI system. "Would you do us a favor?"

"Paging Mister Stark now. You have approximately two minutes to escape," FRIDAY announces.

Natasha smiles and turns back to face the scientist. "Let's get to that grill-out."

"Why not? It's summer."

He wraps his arm around her waist and they walk out, making the most of what Outraged-Tony-free time they have left.


	6. S Play A Game Present Day

A knock is heard on Steve's bedroom door at the Avengers Facility. He raises his head and tells the presence to come in.

In walks messy-haired Natasha, looking frightened.

"Nat?" Steve sits up, confused.

"Yeah, it's me," she whispers. "I could use some advice."

Steve knows something's up.

 _She never takes anyone's advice but her own,_ he thinks.

"Sure," is all he says. He pats a spot next to him on his bed as his eyes adjust to the dark.

"Do you get nightmares?" She asks bluntly, sitting down. "Like, of the war, or your experiment, or something?"

"Well, sure. Everybody gets nightmares. Is that why you're here?"

She nods and looks at her hands.

"I knew you weren't here for advice. Come here." He offers a small smile and lies back down, holding his left arm open for her to lie on.

She does so, laying her head in the crook of his arm. His forearm comes up to stroke her hair and she turns to face him.

She brushes his sandy blonde hair, which is splayed across his face, out of his eyes and looks directly into them.

"Steven Rogers, would you like to play a game?" She asks coyly, referencing the time they spent together in an abandoned SHIELD headquarters site.

"I'll play it with you all night, Natasha Romanoff."


	7. C Christmas After Civil War

Insp. by teambuckybarnes

The holidays are here and the mood is heightened by the snow which has just recently started to float down from the clouds.

Clint's children, who had come from Christmas Eve at their mother's the previous night (Clint having divorced her), pounce on the sleeping lumps they know as Aunt Nat and Dad.

"It's Christmas and-and Santa's been _here_!" Stutters Clint's oldest son.

"Wake up, Dad!" Shouts his daughter.

"I guess it's time to get up," Natasha says, smiling under the duvet at him.

He sighs, looking like he couldn't be any happier. Suddenly, he throws back the duvet and grabs his kids in his muscular arms. They all scream at the surprise attack, delighted that their father is awake.

He showers them with kisses and hair ruffles. Then he stops, looking down at the three in his arms and says slowly, "You better get downstairs before the Big Hawk gets you!"

Again, the children scream, then rush out of the ajar bedroom door to scramble down the staircase to the living room.

"The _Big Hawk_? Really?" Natasha smiles, sitting up.

"What? It's the best way to tell them without actually telling them. They're not ready for Superhero Dad yet." He leans over and kisses her, running his right hand up and down her back. His fingers tease with the hem of her gray long-sleeved shirt for a moment before they're gently pushed away.

Natasha pulls away from the kiss, blushing slightly. "Now, how would we explain that to them?" She asks, looking over his shoulder at the three troublemakers making gag noises at the threshold of the room.


	8. B Dancing Lessons Before The Avengers

Just before The Avengers

Walking by the recreation room and glancing in, Bruce catches sight of Natasha practicing ballet. He knows from their nightly talks that she practices either when she's upset or kept awake from nightmares of the Red Room.

Judging by the time of day, he assumes the former. He stops to lean against the white doorframe and watch. Steve walks by and after bumping into Bruce, he apologizes (only as Steve can) and stops to watch as well. In only a matter of minutes, a small crowd is formed, watching Natasha awestricken.

The music playing on the small purple radio at the back of the room stops and Natasha bows towards the wall. She turns around, wiping perspiration from her forehead, pales at the thought of _all those people_ watching her, then regains her composure and smiles.

"Join me?" She asks Bruce.

He falters, stuttering, "oh, well, I really just-"

"Come on, don't be afraid. We don't have to do ballet."

Tony, being Tony, shoves Bruce into the room.

Glaring at him, Bruce turns and shuts the door before joining Natasha in the middle of the room.

"I can't dance, Nat."

"Then I'll teach you."

"No, I really can't-"

She cuts him off with a kiss on the lips. "There. Better?" After seeing him nod slowly, she takes his left hand in her right, setting her other hand on his arm.

He catches on and places his right hand on the small of her back.

"Let's start with ballroom dancing."

She begins to count and move his feet with her own.

Little do they know, Tony and the rest are watching them from JARVIS's screen in the room.


End file.
